


Quite Contrary

by Prosaic



Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-20
Updated: 2012-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-12 12:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prosaic/pseuds/Prosaic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rue isn't a fan of London.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quite Contrary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gemkazoni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemkazoni/gifts).



> Written as a pinch-hit gift for the 2010 Princess Tutu Secret Santa Exchange for gemkazoni.

The thin sheet of fog that had settled itself across the murky water was steadily starting to lift. In the near distance, dark shapes erupted into view, cutting into the gloomy clouds that had threatened rain for the past three days. The whole of the vast city was laying itself out; taller buildings still merely ominous shadowed figures from the combination of the preexisting miasma and darker smoke puffing from the heads of thousands of chimneys. With the lack of sunlight cutting off any illumination of brighter colors, everything looked as if they’d been painted varying shades of blacks and grays, and this coupled with the dismal weather and chilly air gave the distinct illusion of the entire area being merely one long, massive graveyard.

She wrinkled her nose at the scene. 

“It looks _filthy_.”

Beside her, his laughter burst from his chest in a sharp bark. 

“How can you tell? We’re hardly thirty meters away!”

Rue scowled, chancing a glance at her easily pleased traveling companion. 

“It’s obvious even in all this mist; look at the state of the _water_! You can smell it’s putrid stench from here. Do they even bother to take care of their waterways? They must have to ship in their drinking water from another country!”

He was still grinning at her, which was infuriating. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, the rivers back home are hardly in any better condition. I think you’re just trying to find any conceived objection with England that you can.” 

Mytho turned his gaze back to stare wistfully at the materializing skyline. Hers stayed glued to the choppy waves licking the side of their ship. A shapeless item that quickly revealed itself to be an empty bottle bobbed along, its rounded body embraced by a small colony of bubbles. It was soon joined by a sheet of newspaper that tumbled over itself on the wind before being dragged down to start the leisurely process of being dissolved by the foul water.

“Humph.” So this was London. Not exactly the shining city of industrial advancement that Mytho had made it out to be. The further they edged along the river--into the very heart of the capital--the more she felt a clipped resentment. Surely this grimy British powerhouse couldn’t possibly compare to the subtle might of dignified Berlin? 

“Ohhhh it’s _lovely_!”

Ahiru’s cracked common accent burst against her eardrums. The petite fifteen year old leaned precariously over the railing--bouncing on her toes and clicking the heals of her sturdy shoes together--her long red braid falling over her shoulder to swing back and forth as she twisted her head trying to take in everything at once as it became visible through the fog. She kept pausing to push the brim of her hat out of bright blue eyes, a color that popped against the dim light. 

The taller shape at her side could only be Fakir, undoubtedly standing on guard should the girl loose her footing and topple overboard. 

“Depending on your definition.” He sounded as enthusiastic as Rue felt.

“It’s so _huge_ , isn’t it? Which one do you suppose is the…um…the ‘Big Barn’?” 

“Big _Ben_.” Mytho corrected gently. “It’s next to Parliament. We’re not close enough to see it though, we have to clear the bridges first.”

“Really? That’s- Ahhh, what’s _that_?” She lurched forward, and without looking Fakir reached out and snatched the collar of her coat before she pitched herself over the railing. He sighed.

 

……

 

Rue lowered her book and blinked quizzically. 

“London?”

She watched him take up the small plate of powdered teacakes from the side table and pop three into his mouth. “Mm-hmm.” He nodded as he chewed.

Fakir frowned from where he leaned against the grand piano. 

“What for?”

They waited for the young man to swallow. “Mother is meeting some business associates there. She wanted me to come along so I would be able to become acquainted with them.” He licked the powdered sugar from his fingers, an action that clashed with his dignified dress, before delicately picking up another. 

Ahiru gasped. 

“Oooo that’s the capital right? Where their queen lives and everything!” She bounced in her wing backed chair and nearly spilled her tea all over her lap.

Ahiru--orphaned and rather poor aside from a little financial support coming from a meager inheritance and the generosity of Mytho’s family--had never had any means to leave the country and knew little about England and its politics, outside of the common knowledge that it was one of the most powerful leading countries in the world, and that its queen had married her cousin--the story of their love related in a fairytale like fashion that the red-head had ate-up the moment she heard it.

Fakir’s mouth had stretched into a thin line. 

“When are you due to leave?”

“A week from Wednesday.” The hand lifting another cake to his lips paused so he could gesture to his childhood friend, sugar spilling onto his crisply pressed pants. “Plenty of time for us to prepare.” 

“Yes, well, if it’s just the two of you then I’m sure you won’t have many bags to pack. Your mother usually forgoes luggage and just buys gowns to wear while she’s about the town, doesn’t she?” Rue was trying her hardest to sound pleased for him, but the idea that Mytho was leaving so soon when he was supposed to be on holiday was upsetting. She had rather selfishly hoped that they might use that time to do something together; quite specifically, the _two_ of them rather than the foursome they had suddenly grown into when Ahiru arrived. While she didn’t mind the presence of the girl and surly young man she’d known since youth, the moments she spent alone with the boy she’d come to love were gradually becoming few and far between. 

When she looked at him Mytho was staring at her in bewilderment. “…Two of you…” each word was released as if they were stuck to the roof of his mouth.

Her thin brows furrowed. 

“Yes, you and your mother?” _Who else?_

Fakir snorted, grumbling rather than really speaking. 

“Didn’t you hear him? He said ‘us’.” He waved a tanned hand faintly smudged with ink lazily around the room. “Meaning _us_. You, and me and-” he jerked a thumb in Ahiru’s direction. “–her.”

Rue’s heart lept in her chest. 

“ _Us_?”

“Yes, and on that note,” He turned back to address the fair-haired boy, “ _no_.”

Mytho frowned. “Oh but Fakir-...“

“There’s no reason for me to be prancing off to London when there’s things I could be getting done.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I hardly want to spend my holiday tailing after you while you spend the entire trip visiting with future business connections and attempting to enter every sweet shop in the city just so you can figure out which one of them produces the best toffee.” 

Mytho looked about to protest even as he bit down on another half of a cake. 

“Don’t be negative Fakir, there are so many things we can do there! What about all of the landmarks and the historic cultural opportunities? Besides,” he said slowly, preparing his ace, “Ahiru’s never been able to visit out of Germany. You would like to go, wouldn’t you Ahiru?” 

The younger girl seemed to have frozen in place the moment Fakir’s explanation had landed. She stared wide-eyed down at the tealeaves nestled in the bottom of her empty teacup, hardly believing what she heard. " _Us? All_ four _of us? Me too?!_" she whispered.

“A-Ahiru?”

Her head snapped up so fast that the other three flinched, her busy thoughts tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them. 

“I don’t have the money-!”

“We’ll pay for you-…”

“I couldn’t let you do that-”

“It’s no trouble-”

“But I’d be a burden-!”

“Nonsense, I _insist_ -…”

“But my position and work and _oh_ Ms. Ebine-!”

“I’ll explain the situation and work out an arrangement for you to have time off without loosing pay or inconveniencing her.”

He smiled as she sat nervously twirling the end of her braid, trying to come up with additional objections. When she could find none--

“Can I really go?!” She jumped to her feet, looking ready to burst from hope and excitement. Mytho beamed while Fakir glared at nothing in particular and slouched onto the piano bench. Both knew that the older boy would be going; he would never leave Ahiru alone in a huge unfamiliar city with only Mytho and Rue to supervise. 

As Ahiru began to ramble about places she wanted to see--most of which may or may not have actually been in _England_ , let alone London--Mytho turned his attention back to the only member of the party who had not yet voiced an opinion. 

“Rue?”

She bit the inside of her lip and stared down at her slim pale hands resting on the frayed cover of the book still sitting in her lap. He leaned forward a little. 

“You will come with us?”

Her eyes trailed to the clock, then to the window, then to his face. 

“I-…father might-…” Her father was always extremely obstinate about her following his directions and not letting her waste valuable time she could be using on studies or aiding her family on such pleasure trips. The chance that he would permit her to join them was dreadfully slim indeed.

Mytho stood and moved to her side, lowering the now nearly empty plate to offer her one of the remaining teacakes. 

“Mother will convince him.” The warmth in his voice and quirk of his lips was all the persuasion she needed that he spoke the truth. 

 

……

 

Pulling up to the dock, Rue sneered at the sight of the pavement, covered in dirt and patches of an unidentifiable spilled liquid. She unconsciously reached down to hick up her skirt so the hem wouldn’t drag. 

Ahiru, as with everything, was too fervent in her actions to be the first of them off the ship and nearly smacked headlong into an unfortunate gentleman making his way down the ramp. Fakir huffed at her impatience and rushed forward to apologize and keep her from injuring the other passengers in her chaotic eagerness. 

Rue lagged behind them, staring into her strange new surroundings. She was outside of her homeland-- _without father_ \--was free to wander as she pleased into shops and coffee houses without having to keep to any sort of strict schedule. No primping herself and speaking sweetly to people who would hopefully become an asset to her father’s business, no being dragged to long boring dinners where she was forced to feign interest in would-be suitors who might bring her family wealth should they marry. She was allowed to go at her own pace, make her own choices. 

But really why did the city need to look so soiled and uninhabitable?

She felt a tug on her arm, and suddenly remembered that Mytho was still next to her.

“Come on, we should probably be moving. Fakir and Ahiru are already on the street.” He bended to pick up one of her smaller bags resting by her feet to hand to a waiting servant. 

Mytho paused in his move to leave when she hadn’t budged. Rue was still looking out over the water, the large famous clock tower just striking three o’clock visible in the distance. 

“It’s not so bad. Not really. Is it?” 

“I…suppose it might have it merits.”

Mytho reached out to take her gloved hand between his own, his eyes shining imploringly at her when she turned to look at him.

“Rue, please try to enjoy yourself. I want you to have fun.” The words were spoken in the utmost sincerity. He gave her hand a squeeze for emphasis. 

She blushed lightly and huffed, squaring her shoulders. 

“For _you_ , I suppose.” 

She turned to stalk down the ramp with him following closely behind. The hand that he had held tingled oddly, and she pulled the brim of her hat down lower over her face so he would not see the deep red that had spread across her cheeks. 

She supposed she'd have to make to best of it.


End file.
